"Oh, it isn't his name, but nobody thinks of calling him anything else. He's Judge Trent's cousin, Jacob Johnson, and he lives on this farm winter and summer. He's a good soul, and he was cousin to Sylvia's mother, too, of course, and he"—
"Casco Bay. I have friends who go there in the summer." Dunham's manner grew purposeful.
Judge Trent rubbed his chin the wrong way. "I could send a detective, Martha," he said thoughtfully. "I don't keep them in the back yard, but I usually have one around the office. I could shadow the girl."
Miss Lacey took hope. This met her longings. "If we only surely knew where she is!" she responded acutely.
"Yes, if we only did," the judge replied equably. "Where is she, Dunham?"
The young man flushed at the question.
"I can't tell you," he answered, after a moment's pause.
"Of course he can't," exclaimed Martha. "How queer you act, Calvin. Do you intend to do anything, after all?" Tears sprang to her eyes and overflowed, but she paid no attention to them as she gazed distractedly at the exasperating lawyer.
Judge Trent's manner changed. He even smiled into the tearful countenance, and as she had suddenly risen he rose too.
"Yes, Martha," he answered, "I expect to see something done about it right away. The fat actor shan't get Laura's little girl this time."